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France told him that England wouldn’t be attending the World Meeting today. The Englishman had, reluctantly, relied on France to inform the host of the meeting about his absence.
America was the host, therefore the meeting was held in his country. A superpower nation that continues to grow and improve as the years transpire.
America had been excited about the meeting; he was eager to present his ideas of future technology that could revolutionize them to a new era. Of course these ideas were dubious and far fetched, and it usually caused the other countries to groan and wish for the meeting to end already. It was ‘a waste of time’, they said. But America couldn’t help it! He was a young nation with a wild imagination.
However, the excitement had died down when he was informed at a short’s notice of a certain nation that will be absent today. France had mentioned that England couldn’t attend, and while a majority were glad that the spiteful English country wasn’t present today, America found his initial joy and exhilaration dissipate instantly from France’s words.
America had been giddy all morning, even coming to the conference room early to everyone’s surprise. But as each country filed inside one by one or in groups, the young nation’s flame of glee slowly began to flare out. He’d even postponed the meeting to an extra fifteen minutes to wait for the last nation, hoping he was taking his time coming here or maybe he was late.
But England was never late. He always shows up twenty minutes before a meeting starts (don’t ask why he knows that). It was becoming awkwardly quiet in the room, with everyone waiting for America to start, until France had announced about England’s absence today.
Why would England be absent? And why did he have to be absent on this specific day where America is hosting it? He could have chosen not to attend the next one; why did it have to be today?
And with that confirmation, America had no choice but to commence the meeting. He went on with the assembly with pseud enthusiasm, but everyone in the room, even himself, knew he failed miserably to maintain his usual personality. America could even hear the forced laughter in his voice and wince at every second knowing a certain nation’s absence had affected his demeanor.
England wasn’t there to interject his presentation. England wasn’t there to criticize his awesome ideas. England wasn’t there to argue with him after the meeting. England wasn’t there. England wasn’t here.
And it made America upset. But he wouldn’t admit that though! (Even though every single country in this room knew exactly why the usual exuberant nation was so secretly depressed today)
When the meeting ended, the events after that was just a blur. The countries bid each other goodbye, some remained inside to chat with their friends, and some - France mostly - hung around to cast America sideway glances and teasing smirks.
“France, we’re friends, but can you please lay off, dude?” America grumbled, stuffing his documents and laptop forcefully inside his leather briefcase.
“Ohonhon, mon amie. Why so grim?” France grinned, not entirely surprised by the other’s unusual salty behavior.
“Go away, France.”
“You should go and visit the little bunny.” France only grinned wider at the scowl America casted him.
You don’t need to tell me, I was gonna go see him anyway. “No way.”
“Too bad then. I shall make it my duty to see Anglete-”
America sent him an even darker look. “Don’t.” That one single word was filled with venom and malice.
“Ah~, young love. It pains me to see you suffer hopelessly for Anglete-” Once again, America cuts him off.
“Shut up!” America snaps, glaring daggers at the man despite the blush on his face. Blue eyes glanced left and right to check if anyone was within earshot from what France had said. Fortunately, no one seemed to have picked up their conversation.
France didn’t reply, merely smirking before turning around and flicking his platinum-blonde hair. The nosy Frenchman finally left, leaving Alfred with a sigh.
America was sure a majority amount of the countries were aware of his hidden feelings for a certain Englishman, and said Englishman is actually part of the minority. His feelings remained growing strong, starting as a little sprout during his colony years, and then eventually becoming a colossal tree that rivalled the redwoods and oaks.
Was the Englishman aware of his feelings? No.
Was America going to confess to England? No.
Will England ever return his feelings? No.
America was sad now.
x
Two days later brought America to London, standing outside of England’s home. He had wanted to travel here ever since the recent world meeting ended, but his boss had kept him grounded. Based on his schedule, America couldn’t leave his country until a month later, and it made him frustrated.
And knowing there was no convincing his boss about a quick three day weekend in London, America resorted to sneaking away.
He had to make this quick.
It wouldn’t take that long for his boss and superiors to realize that the man sitting in his office was a sawdust-filled dummy wearing one of America’s suits.
Facing the wooden door, America held a fist to knock but he flinches in shock when the door opens back, revealing a familiar nation walking out. The latter stops abruptly, amethyst eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the former standing on the porch.
“America?”
“Canada?”
Canada blinks, obviously bewildered by America’s presence. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you here?” America echoes the same question. His insides churned, agitated at the idea of Canada staying inside of England’s home. He doesn’t hate Canada, they were brothers, the two main nations that dominated North America. But how come his brother was here?
The latter closes the door behind him. “I heard from England’s superiors that he had gone ill. It surprised me when England was absent the other day, and it turns out England had been suffering under a harsh cold from the past week.”
Colorful sparkles were twinkling outside of the house, but America chose to ignore them. “How did you know about his cold?” England was a stubborn nation. Even with a burning fever, he would still show up to a meeting nonetheless and he wouldn't care if his virus spread. If England was barricading himself in his house, then his illness must be severe. It worried him even more.
“I think you’re forgetting that England and I share a sovereign. He and I are closer than you think,” Canada answers simply.
Oh.
That.
America fights the annoyance beginning to bloom inside of him. First France, and now Canada? He knew the latter wasn’t intentionally getting under his skin, but he didn’t like that he could easily see England more than him.
“But why are you here?” America repeats the previous question.
“I’m taking care of him of course,” Canada answers. “I’m going out to talk to the royal family and parliament about some affairs, but I’m coming back.”
“Wait a second…” The annoyance was beginning to burn even more. “Take care of him?”
“Yes, I usually do it. His supervisors contact me and such. Seeing that hospitals can’t really help nations, it’s better for us to take care of each other instead.”
“And how long have you’ve been doing that?”
“For decades. Why?”
“Well, uh, can you stop?”
Canada’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You should take a break from it, bro! Tell you what, I can take your place for today!” America grinned, his face litting up immediately. "In fact, consider yourself free from ever babysitting the grumpy old man because the United States of America will do it for you!"
Canada blinks at him again in disbelief. "You're not serious."
"Of course I'm serious!"
"America…" Canada sighs. "There's no need. I'm perfectly fine with taking care of England by myself. I've done it for decades, like I said. And you'd make a terrible nurse."
America felt the same annoying feeling in his chest, heats of irritation beginning to swirl, but he kept his cool composure. He wasn't angry about Canada's accusation of his lack of nursing skills, no it was something entirely different. The blue-eyed North American just wanted the latter to leave already.
Canada sighs. "England is inside if you want to see him. I'll be back by midnight, so please keep him company in the meantime. And America, refrain from being your loud and boisterous self. At these times, England would like to have some peace and quiet."
"I can't promise that~"
"And I can't promise that he won't kick you out of his house if you do. And maybe even kick you out of the country and ban you from setting foot here again all together."
This time, America chose silence. He didn't want to be banned from coming to England!
Maybe he can be an angel just for today.
x
America walks inside the house, his nose immediately picking up the scent of jasmine tea in the air. He treads along the familiar corridor, twinkling lights of various colors hiding behind the decorative plants and paintings. The young nation hums a gentle tune as he reaches the entryway towards the living room, hearing a loud sneeze on the way.
A sharp gasp escaped his lips when a pink light suddenly dashed right past him. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was; it was something bright and small. America blinks in confusion before entering the living room, baby blue eyes catching sight of a messy mop of golden hair popping out from a velvet couch.
A bright smile lit up America’s face as he approaches the other nation. “Hey! Iggy!”
The unruly mop of hair turned back so quick, revealing a pale face with surprised eyes. “Wha-? Huh?! America?!”
America laughed, stopping in front of England. The former winced, almost frowning at the latter’s disheveled appearance.
England really did look sick.
His usual pale face was even whiter with a visible hint of pink hue flushed on his freckled cheeks and nose. The two large pool of emerald eyes were glassy and bloodshot as well. England was clad in what seems to be a layer of sweaters that acted as his armor against the cold (even though it was warm inside). Even with the dozens of sweaters wrapped around him and the large flames dancing in the fireplace, the older nation was trembling slightly.
No wonder he couldn’t attend the meeting. He looked like he was in his deathbed!
Eyes narrowing sadly, America speaks, his voice laced with concern, “England-”
“Achoo!”
England sneezes, and what happened next staggered America. At the very second where the former sneezed, a gust of wind flurried for a quick moment before three little fairies appeared, all of them glowing with a color respective to the dress they wore.
Their little faces twisted in worry as they glanced at England, flying closer to inspect his face. A chorus of soft bells chimed when they opened their mouths, and England smiles weakly at them.
“I’m fine, darlings,” his voice comes out as a croak, rusty and hoarse. “Go along now, I don't want to pass my cold to you.”
They whined, but nodded their heads. The trio of them placed tiny kisses on England before fluttering away, joining the wave of fairies lounging around the living room.
America, jaw opened in shock, rubs his eyes behind his spectacles to see if they were working properly. What in the hell?! Fairies?! He knew about England's ‘imaginary friends’ but he didn’t actually think they were real!
“How did… what the… HOW?!” America cries, waving his arms frantically. He gestures to the dozens of fairies flying about. “How did this happen?!”
England opened his mouth to answer, but his nose twitched, and his face contorted in a way that said another sneeze was coming.
“Achoo!” Another flock solidified from thin air, the individual fairies sharing the same expression as the previous ones. England dismisses them, and just like the fairies prior, they flew away and joined their friends. “That’s how.”
America was even more flabbergasted. How the hell was England sneezing up a battalion of fairies?!
“This is freaking me out, dude,” America stammers, his body falling onto the couch. He needed to sit down for this. “Fairies aren’t real!”
In just a fraction of a second, everything in the room stilled. The tiny heads that were once happy and chattering with each other now turned to America with a cold look. England gasps in worry, but before he could even warn America, the flock of angry fairies pounced on him.
x
“You’re an idiot.”
England clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval at the younger nation, who now looked more disheveled than the former. America’s sandy-blonde hair was a mess, each strand poking at random directions, his cheeks were red from exasperation, clothes were a jumbled mess, and his glasses were missing.
Noticing the absent Texas, England turns to the fairies with a frown. He spots one of them, hiding behind the couch’s armrest. “Isabella…” He warns the onyx-haired fairy. The said fairy harrumphs before fluttering towards England, the glasses dangling from her hands. “Thank you.”
England returns the stolen spectacles, his eyes sending a scolding glance at America. “Do not say that when you are in my country,” he growls, shoving the glasses at him. “It’s very rude and disrespectful to them. Now that you’ve experienced their wrath, I decided to not kick you out from my house. But I will if you say those awful words again.”
America pouts, lazily putting back his glasses. “Okay, okay… I’m sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, staring at the herd of fairies that took refuge around England. Not one hovered near America. “And I’m sorry to all of you.” He sees one fairy sitting on England’s shoulder, her soft features contorted into a scowl. Actually, all of them wore scowls and they were directed at him. Even the other nation carried a similar scowl!
“They will not forgive you that easily, but they won’t bother you anymore,” England says bitterly. “You all can go to the other room if you’d like, I’m sure you don’t want to see him at the moment.”
Ouch.
At his request, a majority of them transferred to the other common room, all of them sending America a glare before exiting. However, some decided to stay, but they chose to ignore America now. That was a relief. He didn’t mean to anger them. He was just a little- well, he was shocked tremendously at their presence.
“You wanna explain what’s going on or…?” He nods at the small creatures around England.
Sighing, England crosses his arms and leans back. “As you can see, I am sick. And during these times is where I have little control with my magic-"
"Magic?" America snorts, but the smiles on his face vanishes when the remaining fairies growled at him.
"Do not make fun of me. I can do magic, I am one of the few nations that was given this rare gift," England beams proudly before glaring at America. "Like I was saying; I have the power to summon magical creatures, and I have the ability to see them easily without any need of more magic."
"How can I see them then?" America whispers, still wary about the lingering fairies with them.
It still perplexed Alfred at how he can physically see these creatures. In the past England has bragged about his 'friends', and most of the other nations dismissed him as being mental and delirious.
Well, except for that one Nordic nation near England's country. Norway, was it? He believes in England's stories of the fae and green bunnies with wings; it actually made America salty at the thought of it. He sometimes catches glimpses of Norway and England hanging out with each other - what was up with that?
Arthur rolls his jaded, sick emerald eyes. "I told you. Because of this bloody cold, it's difficult to control my magic!" He didn't want to admit it, but he was vulnerable right now. "Everytime I sneeze or even get startled slightly, I let out an extreme amount of power involuntarily. I accidentally summon fairies, along with enough magic to erase their Glamour. That is why you can see them. Glamour is a spell that shields them away from normal eyes."
"Oh…" America scratches the back of his head. “Is it just fairies that pop out like that?” England had told him stories of vile, dangerous mythical creatures. Surely the man couldn’t summon beasts that could welcome them to their deaths.
“Yes,” England answered, sending America waves of relief. After a short pause, the sick nation eyed America suspiciously. “Why are you here anyway?”
A wide grin curled on America’s face. “To take care of you, of course! It’s my duty as the world’s hero to take care of a stingy Brit we know as England!” His loud voice alone sent a splitting headache to the said Brit.
“Quit yelling! Your obnoxious voice is killing my brain,” England groaned in dismay, rubbing his irritated temples to ease his migraines. “And no, it is not your duty. I can take care of myself just fine!”
America pouted. “You let Canada nurse you, that’s not fair!”
“Git! I’d rather have him than you; and since when did you start caring anyway?” England had expected America to laugh and ridicule him about his current situation. France had teased the hell out of him the last time he reported that he fell ill; he expected America to do the same.
Ever since. I cared for you ever since. “I don’t know, old man. I’m bored and I don’t have anything to do.” Lies. His boss was going to realize that he was gone, and he was going to send a search party for him. “You should totally fire Canada by the way, he needs a break. I can take his place!”
England shook his head rapidly. “No, no need. I’m perfectly fine!” He stands up to his full height to prove his point, but the evident tremor in his knees did not go unnoticed to everyone’s eyes in the room. “See?”
America wanted to laugh at how ridiculous England was being, but he kept his lips at a straight line. How can he get England to trust him more? Clearly the man wanted him out of his house seeing the lies he was sputtering. England tries to prove he is well enough to be alone so America can finally leave. And that hurt.
How does Canada do it? How did he earn England’s trust?
Thinking about Canada staying here and nursing England stirred an uncomfortable fiery feeling in his chest. Imagining his brother helping England stand up from his bed every morning, cooking him meals, spoon-feeding him food, helping him walk around, tend to his every need, help him in the shower-
Just a mere imagination of those events stirred the angry feeling inside him once again. If anyone was going to help England, it was going to be him! The United States of America!
x
“I thought I told you to go home already? I don’t need this!”
America places a bowl of caramel popcorn on the coffee table. He ignores England’s complaints and rants as he prepares the dvd for their impromptu movie night. They spent the entire afternoon arguing with each other; it was a one-sided argument actually, England did the most bickering while America stayed back and watched the former get riled up and angry.
Because of his cold, England’s magic truly was uncontrollable. The Englishman was upset and furious about America crashing in his house, causing the weather to change drastically. It went from London’s usual drizzle to a complete thunderstorm in a second. England can even control the weather now?
When England had yelled one time, thunder clapped and lightning had pummeled a nearby oak tree, giving it no mercy. And it happened every time the Englishman yelled at America. The lightning strikes seem to be getting closer and closer to England’s house, causing the American to refrain his constant teasing.
Maybe this was a time where he shouldn’t mess with the older nation… especially if he had the ability to throw a lightning bolt towards the American…
Nevertheless, instead of doing nothing in the house, America decided they have a movie night. America was even generous to choose a movie made by England’s country; Sherlock Holmes. The CD was already running, the television finally displaying color. America saunters to the couch, plopping down next to England.
“I said for you to go h-”
“Dude, it’s night and I’m tired,” America grunts, making himself comfortable on the couch. He hid a small, shy smile when he felt his arm brushing against England’s.
They bickered and argued again, but their useless fighting ended once the movie started. But once the movie finally started, the pair fell into silence, their eyes focused solely on the telly. It was like that for the first thirty minutes.
America felt England tense beside him. Curious, his baby blue eyes glanced to his left to see the older nation; mouth opened, eyes closed, nose twitching - he was going to sneeze. The younger nation braced himself, expecting another flock of fairies. In a second, England sneezed softly, and America suddenly feels struck by the cupid.
Ah, shit.
That was adorable.
England sneezed like a kitten, and it was playing with America's heartstrings.
Only one fairy appeared, and she fluttered away to search for the others.
Meanwhile, America watched as England wipe his nose against his sleeve. The American was glad England didn't have supersonic hearing; or else he would hear the crazy pounding of his heart. America tried to ease his racing heart, but the more he looked at England - his small frame, red nose, pale skin - the more his heart yearned for him.
He could tear his gaze off of him, but it wasn't easy. For America that is. England sneezes quietly again, his whole body shaking as another fairy friend appears.
America could already feel the blood rise to his face as he continues to gawk and ogle at the Englishman; wandering azure eyes mapping every inch of the latter's face and body. With their close proximity, America can easily lean forward and engulf him in his strong arms. England looked cold, and if America could, he would wrap his arms around the latter's shaking body to warm him up.
While one was watching the movie, the other was watching the former with a hungry look in his eyes.
Feeling an intense gaze burning his skin, England absentmindedly turned his head to the right. He instantly freezes at the sight of America's stare piercing through him, his attention no longer focused on the movie. It made England gulp. The face America had was a foreign one; instead of the usual beaming and bright look on his face, it was replaced by a stern and serious stare.
"Wha-what are you staring at, you bloody wanker?" England mutters, tearing his gaze away from the nation sitting beside him. He felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, especially since America was just right there. And what was up with that stare?
"You look cold," simply says America.
"And so?"
"You want me to help?"
England blinks, confused at the request. He turns back to America, only to see him smiling shyly whilst a pink hue was visible on his cheeks.
"Oh… that's nice of you to do," England mutters, blushing slightly as well. He looks towards the direction of his room. "Perhaps you can get some blankets in-"
England shuts his mouth, his entire body falling rigid as an arm snakes around his waist, the limb pulling his small body against the larger one beside him. His neck snaps back to America, but his eyes were looking at the telly instead of meeting England. A darker, hotter blush replaced the innocent pink on his cheeks as he sputters, "Am… Ameri…! Don't get too close! You'll catch my cold!"
"I don't get colds."
England gulps again as the rush of warmth enveloped his entire body. America was like a living furnace he never knew he needed! Instead of yelling and pushing the American away, he lets himself take in the comfortable warmth radiating from America's body. It helped him battle the cool air around him, and England finds himself leaning into the warmth closer.
Seeing that the Englishman showed no sign of resistance, his grin turned to a soft smile as he shifts his body closer to the older nation, providing him with even more warmth. America's smile curves even wider when he feels England's head bump his shoulder, his silk, golden hair tickling his skin.
England's eyes felt heavy all of a sudden. His eyelids kept falling down, but he refuses to doze off, so his eyes continue to flutter open and close, a blurry vision of John Watson in front of him. Alas, after a heavy battle with himself, England closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep.
America felt the weight press against his arm, and he immediately deduced that England had fallen asleep. Seeing this as his chance, he slowly settled his head against England's. A satisfied sigh escaped his mouth as the American finds himself drifting into dreamland, the film instantly forgotten.
When was the last time he and England slept like this? It felt like forever. The American had yearned for this to happen; for him to sleep beside the one nation he cared deeply for.
It's been two centuries and a half; how long can America conceal these feelings? For another century? Another two? Well, it doesn't matter. He can wait. America is willing to wait for the day where he can finally find the confidence to confess to England, and he's even more excited for the day when England returns his feelings.
It would be amazing. There would be a union between them. Not as nations, but as individuals.
America certainly could not wait for that day.
As he falls asleep with a smile, the flock of colorful fairies giggled while they watch the two nations snuggle in their moment of peace.
Omake - The Next Morning
"Achoo!"
"America, when I said you can accompany England, I didn't mean for you to get sick as well!"
Laying on England's bed was England himself and America, both of them sick and bundled up with layers upon layers of blankets. Their faces were red and hot, but they were shaking at the same time.
"I told you not to get too close you, git… achoo!"
"Hah! You sound like a kitten when you sneeze, you ol… ol… achoo!"
"You sound like a dying pig."
Well, at least he managed to sleep beside England.
America was cold, tired, exhausted; but he can at least use this as an advantage.
America rolls to his side, 'accidentally' swinging an arm around England's stomach and 'accidentally' pulled him closer.
"It's all your fault, England…" He says, his face just an inch away from the other.
"No, your fault," England mutters back.
They kept arguing, but to Canada they were just mumbling weak insults to one another while their arms wrapped around each other for warmth.
Canada's phone vibrates. He reaches for his mobile, only to see a message with an attachment from America's supervisor.
Where is America?
Was the message, along with a picture of sawdust-filled dummy wearing a suit while sitting in the Oval Office.